Priceless
by Angie63
Summary: Tag to Mother's Little Helper 9.17 Sequel to There's Hope (Don't own them, wish I did. Sigh.) Sam is concerned after he returns from a job alone that Dean seems afraid.


Priceless

Sam ran a hand across his eyes. The words on the laptop were running together. He needed sleep. They needed to find Abbadon but he needed sleep. He glanced over at Dean who_ had_ fallen asleep , head on the table, resting on his arms. He stared at his brother. He'd hoped the talk they had finally had would have made a difference. But Dean was even more withdrawn than ever. Sam was worried. It wasn't just the not sleeping, the drinking he was pretty sure had become a problem again. He saw something he'd truly never seen in Dean. Dean was scared. He had seen Dean worried of course, usually in conjunction with him. But even the night the hellhounds ripped him apart Sam never saw fear on his brother's face. There had been sadness, worry and concern for Sam but he had not seen this. And somehow fear in Dean caused near panic in Sam. He got up and went over to Dean. He dropped to one knee and touched Dean's shoulder. "Dean?" He shook his brother gently, "Hey want to get up and go to your room?" Dean stirred slightly. He turned his head to face Sam and his green eyes were glassy and red rimmed.

"What? You okay Sammy?,"he mumbled. Sam felt a little guilty for waking him. He knew Dean wasn't sleeping much. But he needed to rest in a bed.

"I'm good Dean. You're the one sleeping on the table. Come on. You need to sleep in your bed."

Dean tried to pick up his head but it felt as if it weighed 100 pounds and was splitting open. He winced and groaned al little, not wanting to upset Sam. "I can't. Head hurts." His voice was gravely and rough. Sam recognized it as Dean's one-too-many-shots-of Jack voice. He sighed. Could be a long night if Dean was really hungover.

"Okay. I'll help you. Trust me, you really don't want to spend the night out here, You'll be sorry in the morning."

Dean winced again as pain sliced through him. "I'm sorry now." He knew he needed to get up but his head was killing him .He saw the concern on Sam's face and big brother mode kicked in. He forced himself to lift his, to be in an upright position. The world tilted to the left and then the right and he was fairly certain there were at least seven Sams in front of him. He pinched the center of his forehead and winced again. Crap. He knew what was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty. Nausea swept over him and he realized he would never make it as far as the hall bathroom. "Sam…" was all that he managed and the trash can from beside the table magically appeared. He heaved violently several times and was conscious of a large familiar hand rubbing circles on his back. The hand disappeared and Dean felt alone and miserable. Moments later a cool wet cloth was draped on the back of his neck and pressure applied.

"Hey man , y'good?' Sam asked gently. Dean groaned softly.

"Far from good Sammy. Just shoot me okay?" Sam smiled and chuckled softly. This was more like Dean than he'd seen in days. Maybe if they were nice and slow he could get his brother to his room down the hall and sober him up enough for him to sleep. "Dean, let's go slow and see if you can get in your bed now okay?" Since Dean didn't protest Sam slipped his arms around his brother's chest and pulled him up. Once he was on his feet the world started spinning again but Dean clutched Sam's arm and stayed straight up.

"We're going slow Dean. Just a few steps at a time." Sam tucked his brother's arm over his shoulder and slipped his other arm around his waist. Dean tried valiantly to make his feet work, very aware that Sam was half carrying him. Waves of dizziness and nausea swept over him again and he fought hard not to be sick again. "Need to rest?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, still clutching Sam's sleeve tight in his fist. He didn't want to but his head fell on Sam's shoulder and he let it rest there. Sam rested his own head on top of his brother's lightly, holding him steady. If it was chick-flicky then so be it. It was what Dean needed right that moment so chick flick be dammed.

"'K. Keep going." Dean regained a little control and forced his feet to move. Two minutes, that seemed like two years to Dean, later, he was lying on the bed and Sam was taking off his boots. Boots off, Sam pulled the blanket over him and turned off the lights. He switched on the hall light and pulled up the trash can. "Be right back", he said touching Dean's hair lightly. He returned with another damp cloth which he put at the base of Dean's neck. He sat on the bed beside Dean and placed his hand on his arm, squeezing. "Need anything else?" Dean opened his eyes as wide as he could given the killer headache he was sporting.

"No. Thanks Sam." Sam gave him a slight smile and patted his arm. "Try to sleep", he said as he started to rise. Dean reached out his hand. Sam paused and sat back down, taking the hand and gripping it tight.

"Can you stay? Just a little while?" Dean sounded so _young. And scared._ Sam felt afraid of both. Fear in Dean was still so very alarming. He'd seen it after Hell but very few times ever before or since and Sam would do anything to take that away from his big brother.

"Sure" Sam said."I'll stay." He sat there silently watching his brother fall into a light slumber. Dean Winchester never slept hard unless he was truly hurt or very sick . Not when Sam was around. Sam turned loose of Dean's hand and gently turned his right arm over. The Mark of Cain was dark red and raised up still as if it were angry. Sam touched it with soft fingers, gently and Dean stirred and opened his eyes.

"Don't Sammy. Hurts when you do that." Sam saw real pain registered in those green eyes. He stopped and tucked the arm under the covers.

"I'm sorry." He laid his hand on the top of Dean's head. To have caused him more pain was more than Sam could bear. He had no idea how they would make this alright but he knew it had to end. He wanted to get Dean back. He needed desperately to save his brother from whatever burden this mark was bringing.

"It's not your fault." Dean's voice was slurred. "Mine." This hurt Sam. If he hadn't reacted as he had that night on the bridge, Dean would never have gone off with Crowley in the first place. He felt an immediate need to make his brother see how much he needed him, forgave him, _loved _him. Because Sam did. After watching souls fly to their owners he was more convicted than ever before how precious each person really was. Especially Dean.

Sam leaned forward until his forehead and Dean's were touching. "It's not about fault Dean. It's time we got over that. You and me. We're all we've got. Everything that's happened. It's the past . I'm the one who's sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, Ever. I'm alive because of you. You are the best brother in the world. I need you to see this, to know it completely Dean." He sat up and saw awe of some sort in his brother's gaze. Like he couldn't believe he had heard right. Sam was pretty certain the brightness in those eyes was unshed tears but he continued. "I need you to know I know that there's nothing past or present you would put before me. Or me for you." Sam felt a tear slide down his own face now. "I _love_ you Dean. I do. You can call me a girl or whatever but I do. And we're going to fix this Dean. We are. So."

Dean clutched Sam's arm again. _Fuck chick flick moments. Sam was opening his heart up and he would too._ "Sam. God I love you too little brother." Coming from Dean Winchester that was a major speech of epic proportions and Sam was aware. He knew Dean had to be pretty tortured for some time to be able to say it. Somehow Sam knew his brother would rather die than be hugged after this admission but damn, they'd already blown stiff upper lip to hell anyway so why not?

So for the second time in a week Sam Winchester hugged his brother tight and Dean did not pull away. He was used to doing the hugging, not receiving it. He'd done it for thirty years. But it felt good to have someone care about him, to have someone to help bear the burden. And the fact that it was _Sam_, in Dean Winchester world, that was priceless.

Dean leaned into hug and held on for all he was worth. Sam held on too and then gently released his brother. Dean settled once more into the pillow still feeling very hung over, very dizzy and headachy. He didn't know what was going to happen and yes if he admitted it to himself and he wasn't sure he ever could to Sam he was afraid. Crowley was right. He was stalling because he was scared. He closed his eyes. It was too much to think about in the shape he was in. He felt Sam stand up and heard him walk down the hall to his room. He heard the door open and waited for it to close. He waited several minutes and then heard his brother's feet padding across the hall again. Sam was back with the pillows from his own bed. He settled himself on the opposite side of Dean, propping up with pillows, book I hand. He switched on the small lamp on the bedside table which bathed the room in a soft light but not enough to keep Dean from sleeping.

"What're you reading?' Dean asked, expecting a tome of men of letters caliber.

Sam said softly. "The Three Muskateers." Dean laughed. He knew this book was tattered and well read. Sam had received for Christmas when he about twelve.

"All for one and one for all?" Dean asked. His brother chuckled too. There was no telling how many times they'd read the story over again. It felt like home. It felt like family and it felt like _them. _That's why Sam had pulled it from the backpack he'd carried around since forever.

"Something like that", Sam answered. He settled back to read himself to sleep. Dean turned on his side facing Sam and felt sleep pulling him under.

"Night D'artagnan ", he mumbled. Sam reached a hand over and touched Dean's arm again and squeezed.

"Night Dean". He wasn't sure how all this would pan out but he did know this. Dean had spent a lifetime saving Sam and this time he'd move heaven and hell to save Dean


End file.
